My mighty brain... she hath failed me!

It happens. You choose a course of action but only after you've carefully failed to consider all available data. Or, as in my case, you just didn't think.

I wear boots to work, black polishable ones. The thing I do that you're not supposed to do is have steel toed and shanked ones. I got them before I knew it was a no-no, and I'm keeping them, damn it. I'll just have to be careful not to kick anybody.

Anyway, they're seriously waterproof. So get this: I tend to have my shower in the hour or so before I leave for work. Often, I'm still slightly damp when I get dressed for work and leave. I walk, ride the bus, stand around, ride another bus, grab the Skytrain, then walk a ways to get to work. That semi-constant motion (in weather that isn't quite cool enough to maintain a comfortable temperature) makes me sweat a bit. Including, it seems, my feet.

I noticed this the other day when I was getting ready for work - I stuck a hand into my boots and found the top of them near the toe was just marginally damp. Now, I'm not worried about the discomfort, but I certainly don't want anything growing in there and stinking up the place.

So while I was at work, after I'd done a few patrols, I realized that I'd be essentially sitting on my butt for a period of time and there was this electric baseboard heater at one end of the room I was in. Since electric heat is so dry (as evidenced by my aching eyes), I figured I'd pop off the boots, loosen the laces wide so I can slam my feet back into them if there's an emergency, and put my boots on top of this thing to dry them out. Solid plan, right?

Right.

The boots dried out, no problem. They were on there for nearly half an hour, so they were good and dry in the toes. Then I slid them on.

Do you remember reading back at the start of this that there is some steel construction in my shoes? Yup, and that steel was remembering the heat, and wanted to reminisce with me about it.

The toe wasn't too bad, but the steel plate under the sole (to stop nails or syringes from poking me after I foolishly step on them) was. Have you ever read the original story for Cinderella, before people prettied it up for the kiddies? There's a pair of iron shoes in it that are heated up in the fire, and Cinderella's nasty stepmother is forced into them and dances until she dies.

I can relate.

Wow, a whole post about my boots. Tomorrow, my colon!

I'm heading off to visit with my brother and my future sister-in-law. We might eat a little food, watch a little movie, play a little X-box. It'll be nice to do something semi-social before I completely forget how to do it.